


The Great British Baking Show

by Laineyvb131



Category: Madam Secretary
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Humor, Romance, Sexual Humor, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 14:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17367470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laineyvb131/pseuds/Laineyvb131
Summary: Based on a lilacmermaid tumblr prompt: Hearing their parents talk about the Great British Baking show so often, the McCord kids buy them the DVDs for Christmas, but it has only ever been a code word for Henry & Elizabeth.





	1. Christmas Day, 2018

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter takes place on Christmas Day, 2018. The second, a random Saturday in spring, 2014. 
> 
> Also, ignore the fact that the Great British Baking Show is currently on Netflix. It wasn't at the time I wrote the first chapter, and online access wouldn't have fit with this story. So I ignored it. *shrug* I'm pretty sure the continuity fairy on the show is drunk, and does the same.

Elizabeth snuggled deeper into the couch, sighing with contentment and pulling Henry's arm tighter around her. The Christmas lights glowed softly behind her eyelids as she dozed. With a soft blanket tucked under her chin, and Henry's warmth against her back, she thought she could stay in that position all day and be perfectly happy. She could hear the kids giggling with each other, peppered by an occasional retort. Her Irish coffee- admittedly more Irish than coffee - had grown cold. The box of donuts on the coffee table had long been devoured in the madness of unwrapping gifts, only crumbs remaining. She didn't know where Henry managed to find hot, fresh donuts on Christmas morning, but she wasn't complaining. Christmas magic or something. She snorted to herself. That was definitely the Jameson talking.

The sleepy fog in her mind cleared a bit at Alison's exclamation. "Hey, we missed one last present for you guys!"

Elizabeth lazily rolled her head to the side and opened her eyes in time to see her daughter squirming under the lowest branches, jostling the hanging ornaments. A mumbled "be careful, those are breakable" tumbled out of her mouth, without much emphasis in the warning.

Alison grabbed a small rectangular package, buried in tree skirt. Sliding back out, more gently this time, she prepared to toss it to her mother. "Here, Mom, you can open this one."

"Hold on, Noodle." Henry shifted slightly behind Elizabeth, stretching to take the present from Allison.

Elizabeth felt a slight thud on her legs as the package landed in her lap. While waiting for Henry to settle back onto the couch, Elizabeth searched for her glasses in the mounds of her blanket and perched them on her nose.

"Thanks, Noodle, but I think we've had quite the bonanza for the day, haven't we?"

She gestured to the typical Christmas morning aftermath of colored paper and boxes of varying sizes, strewn around the living room.

"Yeah," Alison replied, "but we thought you guys might like this." She shrugged, but Elizabeth didn't miss the excitement in her attempted nonchalance. Curiously, she tore open the wrapping paper. In her peripheral vision, Stevie winced. Elizabeth never was one to save the paper, much to Stevie's chagrin. Her oldest child had a stack of neatly folded wrapping paper next to her just-as-neatly sorted gifts.

She'd obviously opened the package upside down, but recognized the shape of a DVD. "Do we even have a DVD player?" Elizabeth thought to herself. The kids were always on their phones or technology these days, so she never thought about it. Even when they had a rare family movie night, Jason set up their selection before she finished making popcorn.

Well, huh. Dismissing her rambling train of thought, Elizabeth flipped the box over.

And stopped suddenly.

Oh, crap. Crap.

She felt Henry tense against her back. After a moment, his body started to shake quietly.

"The Great British Baking Show," she read.

She fumbled for an appropriate comment, sensing the kids watching her expectantly.

Crap.

Did they know?

They'd been sneaky, hadn't they? Blasé, even?

She wasn't **that** loud, was she?

As her mind frantically raced for a response, she bit her lip to keep from smirking, suddenly finding the situation rather funny.

Henry's arm tightened around her waist again and his other hand came down on her shoulder, squeezing gently. He was still laughing silently, but to his credit, she didn't think the kids noticed.

Stevie was aware of her hesitation, though.

"Mom, you guys talk about watching that show all the time, but we couldn't find it on Netflix or Hulu."

"Who, what?" Elizabeth interrupted.

"Hulu, Mom. It's an online streaming service for TV." Jason rolled his eyes and waved away his dismay at her confusion with a gesture of his hand.

"Who doesn't put anything online these days," he mumbled. "And who watches people bake? Seriously. How is that even at all exciting?"

Jason's rant nearly sent Elizabeth into a fit of giggles. No way could she risk looking at Henry. Exciting, indeed.

"Besides, Mom, we all know you can't cook. You're not getting any better spending all that time watching someone else do it." Jason apparently was just getting wound up. "Why bother? Dad is really good already."

Elizabeth bit her finger. The unintentional innuendo in her son's tirade should have stifled her amusement at a potentially awkward situation, but she couldn't help herself at this point.

"Shut up, nerd." Stevie glared at her brother. "It's baking, not cooking. There's a difference." Before Jason could open his mouth to debate her point, she continued. "Anyway, we thought you might have missed some episodes and could catch up together, since you don't really have a chance to watch TV with your schedules."

"Your bedroom TV has a DVD player. We checked, first." Stevie apologized for the intrusion with a shrug of her shoulders. "You can even watch on Jason's gaming system here in the living room. Hey, we could all watch this afternoon." Stevie perked up at the idea of more family holiday togetherness.

"No way," Jason responded. "And keep me from playing this game? As long I've been waiting, you've got to be kidding me."

As the kids started arguing, Henry shifted and Elizabeth felt his hot breath against her ear.

"Well, now we might have a problem," he chuckled, his voice a low whisper.

Elizabeth shot up to a sitting position, jarring Henry with her sudden movements, barely avoiding a collision of her head with his chin. He grunted and pulled his arm away to rub where her elbow had landed in his stomach.

"Who wants breakfast?" Elizabeth asked, scrambling for a distraction.

"We already ate breakfast," Allison reminded her. "Or at least had all those donuts."

"Yeah, but I'm hungry again," said Elizabeth.

"I'll make something," Stevie offered. The look she sent her mother clearly conveyed the unspoken _of course you are_. Elizabeth glanced away. She couldn't meet her daughter's eyes and keep her amusement contained.

"Thank you, sweetie. We'll be in there in a minute." The kids traipsed out of the room, still bantering about who was using the television, and when.

Elizabeth shifted the blanket off her legs and swung her feet to the ground. She set her elbows on her knees and buried her forehead in her hands, fingers tangling in her hair. She looked over at Henry when the kids had safely left the room. They both burst out laughing as their eyes met.

"We are either really devious or really obvious," Henry managed to say, through his laughter. "And no, you aren't nearly as quiet as you think you are."

"Well, let's hope all those years of tradecraft paid off, and they're oblivious" replied Elizabeth, her giggling intensified at his comment. The man knew her way too well. "If not, we're totally screwed."

Henry stood up, reaching out his hand to Elizabeth. She clasped his fingers and he pulled her up to standing, taking advantage of the momentum to grasp her other hand and bring her into the warmth of his embrace. Sliding his arms around her waist, he pulled her flush with his chest, nuzzling his nose in the crook of her neck. He tucked his thumbs in the waistband of her pajama pants, hands resting low on her back.

"Look at it this way," he mumbled against her skin. "They've just given us an excuse to disappear into our bedroom for, oh, hours." Glancing at the DVDs, he continued, "We have four seasons to catch up on."

Elizabeth slid one hand up into his hair as Henry nibbled his way down her collarbone, tilting her head to give him more access. Her other hand rested on his chest, feeling his heartbeat speed up as his tongue traced the neckline of her shirt.

"You make a good point," she conceded. "Assuming they'll resume their typical avoidance of all things family once the glow of gift giving has worn off, and give up this idea of watching with us." Sarcasm weighed heavily in her voice.

Henry lifted his head so he could see her face. "I think we can count on that," he affirmed. He tilted his head in the direction of the kitchen. Raised voices could be heard, now arguing over who should set the table.

"Do you think we can also count on the traditional Christmas food coma and that new game of Jason's to keep them occupied while we binge watch the rest of the day?" Elizabeth wondered. "Surely that's the expectation, with a present like this?" She shrugged and feigned an innocent look.

Henry's laugh became a low growl. "Is that what we're calling it, now? Binge watching?"

Elizabeth snickered.

Henry's eyes darkened with desire as he contemplated the possibilities of the afternoon alone with his wife. The pumpkin pie really didn't need whipped cream, he suddenly decided. "You'd better work on your poker face if you want the kids to buy it, but I'm all in."

Stevie's voice called from the kitchen. "What do you guys want in your omelets?"

"You'd better stop looking at me like that, or I'm not going to be able to eat this feast Stevie seems to be making for us," Elizabeth warned Henry, anticipation building low in her belly.

"Hey, don't blame me," Henry replied. "You put all these thoughts in my head. Besides, babe," he continued, "I've never known you not to eat. I think you can manage."

Elizabeth smacked him on the chest. "Yeah, but now I don't really want to. I guess I'm gonna have to fake it."

"As long as you aren't faking anything later." Henry winked at her.

A glint sparked in her blue eyes at his words.

"Oh, definitely not."

She reached her other hand into his hair and stretched up on her toes to meet his lips, kissing him deeply, her tongue sliding against his.

"Wait." Elizabeth pulled back suddenly. "What do we do if they ask us about the show? We're gonna have to fake **that**."

"Well, they haven't yet, but if they do, but there's always Google."

"Oh, you're good," she purred.

Henry grinned. "You know I am." He kissed her quickly, but with heat. And then again, gently biting her bottom lip.

"As long as we don't have to explain we're not actually watching people bake. I'm pretty sure talking with our kids about our sex life will be way worse than talking with Jason about his." Elizabeth shuddered slightly at the memory of that conversation.

Henry grunted in agreement. "Well, in our defense, we did watch the show. That one time."

Elizabeth snickered again. "Yeah, like either one of us really had the capacity to pay attention. I seem to remember several orgasms. Maybe some begging. Because you are really good." Her fingers toiled in his hair while she spoke, eyes dancing under lowered lashes. "And I really wasn't that loud. You didn't have to turn on the TV so the kids wouldn't hear us. You definitely didn't have to tell them we were going to watch it when you dragged me upstairs."

"Why did you choose that show, anyway?" Elizabeth asked, suddenly curious.

Holding her gaze, Henry slowly slid his hands down to her hips, brushing the sides of her breasts teasingly. "I have no idea. I had other things on my mind at the time. Namely, getting you naked. But I have to disagree with Jason: it **is** exciting."

Elizabeth shivered in response to the desire in his voice, her moan low in her throat. Her laughter died with the sudden flare of arousal.

"Come on," Henry said, as he shifted them both around the end of the couch.

With a playful swat on her ass, he pushed Elizabeth toward the smell of cooking wafting through the doorway.

"Let's go fuel up. We have Great British Baking Show marathon ahead."


	2. Spring, 2014

She’d woken after the sun rose for the first time in months, alone in bed. World crises didn’t stop for weekends, which meant even less time alone with Henry. She’d already had a slight crisis of her own over their sex life. Henry had reassured her, but she still missed her husband.   
  
Really missed him.   
  
Henry woke to slamming cabinet doors and raised voices from the kitchen. He’d left Elizabeth sleeping, trying to prevent the kids’ fighting from waking her. Selfishly, he wanted to stay in bed with his wife. He’d tamped down his instinct to snuggle into her, warm and soft, and bring them both pleasure in the morning light.  
  
He still wanted her.    
  
They’d been teasing during their breakfast routine: bumping hips at the sink, a brush of his fingers on the small of her back, her hands briefly tangling in his hair.   
  
When the kids wandered from the breakfast table to the living room, ostensibly to find technological entertainment, Henry had pinned Elizabeth against the counter for a hot, steamy kiss. She’d indulged him, roaming her hands down to his butt, nestling his body into the cradle of her thighs. But then she pushed him away with a sly smile when Jason came back to dump his cereal bowl in the sink. Seeing their son’s very obvious eye roll, Henry winked at his wife, full of promise.  
  
Elizabeth shuffled out of the kitchen, coffee mugs in both hands. Henry’s arms were wrapped around her waist, his lips on her neck, his breath hot in her ear.    
  
“Stop it, I’m going to spill this coffee,” she hissed, nudging him back with her hips. She could feel him getting hard, and smirked to herself.   
  
_Well, then._   
   
Elizabeth took a deep breath and forced the lust out of her voice.   
  
“What are we watching?” she asked the kids. Jason’s eyes were glued to something rather violent looking on the television. Alison lounged in the corner on pillows, earbuds in, staring at her phone screen, thumbs flying.   
  
When no one responded, she shrugged, and set the mugs down on the table. At least they weren’t fighting with each other. She looked back at Henry with a pointed gaze.   
  
_Stay out of trouble._ Not that Elizabeth actually meant her warning.   
  
Henry raised his eyebrows and cocked his head, as if to accept the challenge offered. He sat down on the couch, leaning back into the corner so she could settle into the crook made by his legs.  
   
Elizabeth’s blue eyes twinkled with amusement as she accepted his hand and let herself be pulled down with him.  
   
She laid back against his chest, grinding into his body, and heard Henry stifle a groan. He exhaled, long and ragged, as if he were trying to calm himself. Henry dragged his hand over her forearm, up, up, over her shoulder and squeezed slightly. Elizabeth reached to tug the blanket off the end of the couch, and his hands bracketed her ribs to control her backwards motion. She bit her lip to keep from laughing.   
  
_So he was as turned on as she, huh?_   
  
She tucked the blanket under her arms, covering most of her body, and Henry’s legs.   
  
_Game on._   
   
Henry’s arm drifted under the blanket, cupping his hand around her hamstring. His other hand slid under her arm, inside her pajama top, to rest warmly on her stomach. Those fingers began tracing circles, ever so lightly, down her ribs to her hip, and back up again, just brushing the swell of her breasts. Lust began to trickle through her veins.   
  
She hadn’t bothered with underwear or a bra that morning before heading downstairs. The lack of both gave Henry easier access to her bare skin.   
   
The hand under her leg teased her, feather light, fingers lingering close to her center, slowly tracing the seam between her butt and thigh. Elizabeth could feel herself getting wet as his touch made her throb deep in her belly.   
  
Suddenly, Henry blurted out, “Hey, the Great British Baking show is on.”   
  
Apparently, whatever show Jason was watching had ended, and the channel listings scrolled down the screen.  
  
“We need to see how that last challenge ends,” he continued. Henry tapped the underside of Elizabeth’s leg lightly, encouraging her agreement.   
   
“Yeah, they were, uh, making, um, some kind of fancy cakes. In a contest. With judges. That yelled a lot.” Elizabeth frantically searched for a plausible explanation.   
   
“Um, no. No way am I watching people bake.” Jason protested rather vehemently. “You have a TV in your room. Have fun with that.” He waved them off with a vague toss of his hand.   
   
Instead of responding to Jason’s indignant tone, Henry instantly agreed. “You’re right. We’ll go watch upstairs. I don’t want to miss this one.”  
   
Alison gave her dad a weird look, but promptly focused her attention back on her phone screen.   
  
Henry pushed Elizabeth forward, so he could move. She looked up as he stood, catching his gaze. His eyes were wide with lust, his breathing shallow. Elizabeth raked his body with her eyes, licking her lips at the outline of his erection visible through his sweatpants.   
  
She shoved the blanket at him, and set her feet on the floor. “Here, take this. I might be cold.”  
  
Henry glanced at her, confused. They had plenty of blankets on their bed. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him, and dropped her gaze. He got the point rather quickly, and held the blanket in front of him, turning toward the stairs after confirmation she was following him.  
  
They raced up the stairs, as fast as they could go without raising suspicion, or making noise on the hardwood.   
  
Henry strode into the bedroom, tossing the blanket in the direction of their bed, as he turned to take his wife in his arms. Elizabeth had just closed the door when he descended on her, crushing her mouth in a bruising kiss, hands tangling in her hair. Tongues dueling, he pressed his body against hers, cradling his hardness against her belly. Elizabeth’s arms clung to his shoulders as she gave herself over to the passion they’d been simmering for hours. Henry tore his mouth away from hers and trailed a path of hot kisses down the side of her neck, starting behind her ear. Elizabeth moaned, unable to control her response to his assault on her senses.  
   
Henry pulled back, his eyes dark.  He refocused and turned toward their armoire. The haze cleared in Elizabeth’s brain.   
  
“Henry,” she called, rather plaintively.  
   
“Where’s the TV remote?” he asked.   
   
“Seriously? Are we really watching TV?”  
  
“I’m turning it on.”   
  
“Why the hell would you do that?”   
   
“You’re loud, and I plan to make you even louder.” He pounced on the remote laying on his nightstand.  
   
“Really?” Elizabeth pressed her breasts to his back and slid her arms around his waist, her hands moving lower until she cupped his erection. Henry moaned and rocked his hips into her touch. He put his hand over hers.   
  
“Wait. Stop. I can’t find the channel,” he protested, halfheartedly.  
   
“You can’t just leave me hanging,” Elizabeth argued, her exasperation evident.   
  
“Oh, I won’t. I promise,” Henry growled, chucking the remote blindly and taking Elizabeth back into his arms.   
  
“At least now we aren’t lying to our kids,” he admonished.  
  
“Yeah, because we’re oh, so worried about that right now.” Elizabeth snorted.    
  
He banded one arm around her back and shoved the other into the front of her pajama pants. His palm found her core, fingers resting just above her heat. Elizabeth whimpered.   
  
“Better?”   
  
“Oh, so much,” she confirmed.   
   
Henry kissed her again, more slowly this time, but no less thoroughly, sliding his tongue into her mouth. Elizabeth responded eagerly, fisting her hands in his hair.   
  
“Touch me,” she mumbled against his lips.   
  
“I am touching you.”   
  
“Touch me.” She nipped at his bottom lip.  
   
He skimmed his finger down into her heat, over her clit, just dipping inside her. Elizabeth gasped.   
  
“Babe, you’re so wet.”  
   
“You’ve been teasing me all morning. What do you expect?”  
   
“I love feeling how you react to me,” he confessed.   
   
Elizabeth shifted her hips, desperate for Henry to release the burning, throbbing need tormenting her body.  
   
He stroked two fingers over her clit, in sync with his tongue in her mouth. Her orgasm hit her suddenly, and Elizabeth tensed, her whimpers swallowed by his kisses. Her back arched over his arm, and she trembled from the pleasure.  
   
Her reaction sent him into a frenzy. “More.” Henry plunged his fingers inside of her. “Take more.”  
   
He drove her back to the edge with steady, solid strokes, but then held her there, ravishing her mouth with lips and teeth and tongue, while his fingers ravaged her body. He traced the line of her collarbone with his teeth, and Elizabeth drew a shuddering breath. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, with the sensations he was creating within her, and yet she desperately needed more.  
   
“Henry. Please,” she demanded.  
   
Henry didn’t increase his pressure, and bit the juncture of her neck lightly. Elizabeth’s hips jerked in response. One hand remained tangled in his hair, and with the other, she grabbed his hand, the one inside her, to force him deeper, faster.  
   
“Please. Fuck.” she repeated, begging this time.  
   
He added a third finger, stretching her deliciously, sliding easily through her hot arousal. He was so hard he thought he’d burst, and he thrust against her hip, through the layers of their clothes. Henry wanted her naked, wanted to pound into her slick heat until he exploded. But he was determined to bring Elizabeth to peak again before he satisfied his own craving for oblivion.  
   
“Come for me,” he growled in her ear.   
  
He increased the speed of his fingers, curling them inside her, as his thumb flicked her clit. Once, twice, then pressed, hard. Elizabeth shattered again, a long, low moan escaping her throat, hands falling away, her arms going limp. Her muscles clenched around his fingers as Henry pushed her through the waves of pleasure. Her head dropped to his shoulder as she reveled in the bliss.  
   
Henry snapped. “Clothes off, now.”   
  
He tore his hand from her body, grasping her pajama pants with both hands and jerking them off her hips. Elizabeth refocused enough to help him yank her shirt over her head.  As her clothes fell to the floor, Henry stopped, his eyes drinking in her naked body.   
  
“You’re so beautiful.” He cupped her chin in one hand, thumb brushing her jawline.   
  
Henry raised his other hand to his mouth, sucking on the fingers he’d had inside her. “And you taste so good.” His pupils were blown wide, voice deep and wanting.  
  
“You need to get naked. Fast,” Elizabeth commanded.   
  
She reached for his shirt, dislodging his hands in the process. Tossing it away, she reached for his pants. She carefully pulled the waistband away from his body, over his erection, then grasped him in her fingers. He was so hot, and so hard. Elizabeth stroked her thumb back and forth over the tip. At Henry’s sharp inhale, she smiled.   
  
Henry’s hands covered her breasts, pinching her nipples between his thumb and index finger. She gasped, her body flooded with fresh arousal.   
  
“My turn,” she said.   
  
Elizabeth dropped to her knees, yanking his pants and boxers down his legs as she went. As Henry’s hands smoothed her hair back from her face, she looked up at him through lowered lashes, biting her lip. The passion in his eyes took her breath away; he was so far gone, she wouldn’t need much to push him to the brink.   
  
Henry tensed in anticipation of his wife’s mouth where he so desperately throbbed for her touch. Elizabeth’s tongue touched the base of his penis, fluttering upward as her hand cupped his balls. She tugged, gently, rolling him in her palm as her mouth enveloped his length. He bucked, almost involuntarily, as she sucked him gently.   
  
And he was done. Henry reached down and grasped Elizabeth’s biceps, lifting her back to her feet. She instinctively clutched his forearms as he turned them both toward the bed.   
  
Henry laid Elizabeth down on the quilt, across the foot of the bed, their bodies flush. Elizabeth gasped as her nipples scraped his chest and his erection nestled in the apex of her thighs. Henry slid his penis against her sensitive flesh, coating himself with her arousal. Then he shifted his weight back to his knees, shoving her legs up on his shoulders. Bracing his hands on the mattress, he plunged into her warm, wet heat.   
  
Elizabeth keened, low in her throat, as he filled her, pounding relentlessly, racing them both towards completion. She held on, digging her nails into his back, hips pistoning in rhythm with his thrusts. Elizabeth couldn’t focus, couldn’t keep her eyes open as the pleasure screamed through her body, building from her core. She heard Henry saying her name, over and over, as he drove them further to orgasm. He pushed deep inside her, where the pressure tightened, endlessly, until she came apart, crying out from the sheer intensity of the sensation. Henry groaned her name one last time as he stiffened and poured himself into her.   
  
Her legs slid off his shoulders as Henry collapsed, half draped across her body. She lay on her back, eyes still closed, as she twitched with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Her heartbeat echoed in her head. Elizabeth could feel Henry panting against her ear, and she slipped her fingers through his hair, soothing and gentle.   
  
He kissed her collarbone, trailing his lips over her skin. “Mmm… I love you.”  
  
She dipped her head toward him, cheek resting against Henry’s forehead.   
  
“I kinda like you, too,” Elizabeth sighed, content. She felt his lips curve against her shoulder.   
  
Henry softened inside her, slipping from her body; Elizabeth felt the remnants of their lovemaking dripping down her leg. And still they lay together, too sated to move, treasuring the moment. Henry’s hand rested on Elizabeth’s stomach, thumb ghosting the line of her rib cage, while her fingers traced the shell of his ear.   
  
Voices broke through their haze.   
  
“What the hell?” Elizabeth whipped her head in the opposite direction. And huffed out a breath. “Shit. That scared me. I forgot you left the TV on. I thought for a minute we’d left the door open. Or unlocked.”   
  
“I assumed you locked the door. You did, didn’t you?” he questioned.  
  
She nodded. “That close call when Jason was little was enough to make that a habit.”   
  
Elizabeth fell silent, watching the screen.  “Well, damn. That looks good.” Her breathy sigh grabbed Henry’s attention.  
  
“I thought you only moaned like that when I’m inside you,” Henry joked.   
  
“Ha. Well, you are good. Really good. But seriously, look.”  
  
Elizabeth suddenly shifted to her side, causing Henry’s head to fall from her shoulder to the bed.   
  
“Thanks, babe,” sarcasm evident in his voice. But he was intrigued enough to prop his head on his hand so he could see over Elizabeth’s shoulder.   
  
“Huh. That does look good. Are those scones?”  He saw Elizabeth nod in response.   
  
She stretched an arm back over his body, still focused on the TV, groping behind him. Henry got the hint, and reached for the blanket he’d tossed earlier in his haste. He covered their cooling bodies, and slid his arm around Elizabeth’s waist, pulling her back against his chest. Henry tangled his legs with hers; she clasped his hand, intertwining their fingers.   
  
“This could become a habit, you know. Watching the Great British Baking Show together,” he murmured in her ear.   
  
“Mmm… I like how you think,” Elizabeth replied, her eyes still on the television.   
  
“You know I don’t actually mean watching this, right?” Henry clarified. He was well aware of Elizabeth’s love of food, baked goods in particular.   
  
He squeezed their hands to get her attention. She leaned back so she could look into his eyes.   
  
“Yes, I know you don’t mean actually watching this.” She smirked, and smacked him on the chest, leaving her hand flat to toil through the hair with her fingers. “As much as I love to eat, there are still some things I love more.”   
  
Elizabeth tugged, gently, then ran a thumb over his nipple. “You, naked, is high on that list. Orgasms with you? Even higher.”   
  
Henry sighed in mock relief. “My ego is still intact, then.”  
  
He took her lips in a long kiss, soft, warm, and loving. When he pulled back, she asked, “So how long do you think the kids will buy this excuse?”  
  
“The way they ignored us today? Awhile,” Henry decided.    
  
“Think we have a little more time, now?” Elizabeth wondered. “I want to see how these scones turn out.”   
  
Now Henry smirked. “Of course you do.” He knew his wife too well. “I’d say, we have the rest of the hour.”  
  
Then she rolled over and snuggled into him, his chest flush to her back, her foot rubbing his calf, their interlocked hands tucked against her heart. With her head laying on her bent elbow, his chin on her shoulder, they settled in to watch, together.   



End file.
